


Burdock & Pistoles

by Shiva_Eustass



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M, Florist AU, Gen, Mafia AU, Valentine's Day Gift
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-24 10:03:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9716750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiva_Eustass/pseuds/Shiva_Eustass
Summary: Florist AU or should I say Mafia AU? What does a rose in family connected with murder and revenge symbolize? Ivar &OC with the others slowly mixing in, R&R





	1. Chapter 1

Burdock & Pistoles

Florist AU/ Mafia Au

* * *

Inside the always humid room flowers littered the floor, the walls and every stool and table that she managed to fit inside. Roses, from pristine white to deep, lustful red to lilies and yellow tulips. The occasional daffodil and lilac breaking in. The air was heavy with moisture and the breath of the flowers.

Being surrounded by beautiful flowers sounded like a delightful job until you realized that they needed care, water and rearranging. Every client wanted their bouquet differently, some didn't even know how to match two colors properly. Mixing graveyard flowers with spring bringers.

With Valentine's day approaching Mae felt her back aching already. She'd have to work extra on those day and where they payed amazingly, she was sore for days after. There'd be an increase in males buying roses and what she enjoyed every year was the rise of females buying roses for their loved ones. The reversal of roles was refreshing to see.

She heard the bell of the entrance door chime and turned around. ˝Welcome, how may I help you?˝- She asked with a smile. A mall came in or rather wheeled in. He grunted as soon as he heard her and moved in his wheelchair examining the flowers. He looked young, in his early 20s. Girlfriend shopping? Or boyfriend? She giggled.

˝No, you may not˝- He said. His voice was heavily accented. Mae shrugged it off, it wasn't the first time a male would come in and get defensive about „flowers and that female shit". She'd wait for him to call her.

She busied herself with new arrivals, carefully taking them out of the saran wrap and placing into vases where the flowers could breathe. New sponges for ikebana arrangements were put into boxes under the counter, various bows and ribbons above the counter. A few cans of wax protectant and shine spray. She had stocked up on the regular stuff along with Valentine's day cards and everything that came in heart shape.

There were even heart shaped dicks and boobs. She laughed at the tiny plastic ornaments. A grunt reminded her of her customer.

˝Have you made your choice?˝- The young man was in front of the rose section, scowling at the flowers. ˝Would you like me to make you a bouquet of those? They're are lovely for this time˝- She added with a softer voice. With males like this you needed to be subtle not to bruise their gentle ego's.

˝No I don't want these˝- He said slowly.

˝Okay, maybe tulips? Or lilies?˝

˝No˝

Mae licked her lips in thought. Then the Hell did you want? Her eyes darted across the small florist shop, mentally listing everything she had.

˝Burdocks?˝

˝What!?˝

˝Burdocks, those lovely prickly flowers, they bloom in beautiful purples and pinks. If you want something different and special˝- Will he bite to it?

˝That's a weed˝

˝Every weed has a flower, some are not so noticeable as a rose˝

˝I don't want a weed˝

˝Okay Sir, would you explain the occasion you want the flowers? It would help choosing the right flowers˝

˝A funeral or rather a graveyard visit˝- Oh shit oh shit. Think fast Mae. Graveyard flowers. She was painfully aware of his gaze and turned around to stare at her working table. Behind it a mirror reflected the still scowling man. He stared at her with a judging stare of a pair of azure blue eyes. Even with her back turned to him she could feel the intensity in his gaze.

˝Okay I can make an arrangement of Ferns, Ivys, Lilys maybe Marigold and Violets?˝- A bead of sweat traveled across her back, riding her spine.

˝Add moss to it, make it look...mountainy˝- He said narrowing his eyes. She saw him shift in his wheel chair and wait.

˝Sure, give me a few moments˝- Shuffling she gathered the flowers on her working table and some sponge for the flowers to place on. She took some gold and red ribbons, moving them towards him and receiving a nod. Carefully she arranged them adding moss into the free spaces between the flowers and weaving ribbons in between. ˝To whom is it addressed?˝- Working with her hands calmed her voice back to its professional tone.

˝Beloved Mother˝- He said slowly. It took some will power not to stare at him in surprise. It.. it suited his demeanor. Mae wasn't trained to read people but her job allowed her to see just why people bought the flowers and how they thought. Every flower meant something special and she loved guiding them through them. The happiness when a lover would see their favorite bloom was gratitude itself. ˝She was murdered˝- He hands trembled.

˝I'm sorry to heard that, my condolences˝

˝Mhmm.. by my Father's first wife˝- He added with a light voice.

˝Oh...˝- Not knowing why he suddenly started talking to her, Mae started working faster. Finishing with the shine spray and some wax to keep the flowers longer pristine she presented the arrangement. The young man eyed it from every corner and smiled. He took a wallet from his inner jacket pocket and threw two hundred bills.

˝Uhm Sir, it's not that much, let me give you the change˝

˝No, you've pleased me, keep it˝

˝Thank you˝- The arrangement was placed in a brown paper bag, wide enough not to damage them flowers and to protect it till it comes to the graveyard.

˝What do you buy for Valentine's day?˝- He asked suddenly. She saw his wheelchair going towards the exit.

˝Roses I guess?˝

˝Buy one for me˝

˝Excuse me?˝

˝Its the official invitation, isn't it?˝

˝I don't know what you mean sir˝- Another bead of sweat rolled down her spine. The young man smiled.

˝In the Familia, isn't it?˝- He grinned showing teeth. It looked like a predator ready to pounce even if he was in a wheel chair.

˝I'm afrai-˝

˝The Ragnarssons are joining in, tell that your family˝- With that he left her small shop. The only place she had to run from her own family.

* * *

 

 

Let me bury myself in an AU I don't know anyone will be willing to read. Cause why not, eh?

Should I continue?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

* * *

Neon flashed inside the room as the newly made 80s synth pop blasted from the speakers. The mirror globe bounced the colors of a psychedelic rainbow in rhythm to the strangely addicting music. One boy sat comfy in a chair, his legs propped against a table, a bottle of whiskey in his hand and a smoke in the other. He had his eyes closed and was bobbing his head to the music. The braided, mousey hair was a mess as was his life currently.

Click.

The music stopped and a groan left the young man's mouth. ˝The fuck? Ubbe get out˝- The man shouted. His speech blurred by alcohol and probably one of those small, colorful pills on the table. Maybe even a hit of the blunts neatly stacked by the music station.

˝Hvitserk, get your ass clean and head downstairs, we're having a family meeting˝- Ubbe said slowly. He already rolled his eyes at the state of his younger brother. The wasted youth as he liked to call him. Girls, drugs and booze and that infernal noise. Something that would only be heard from a bad 80s racing movie. The small fuck wasn't even born in that time.

˝What did baby bro do it?˝- Hvitserk mocked. He leaned to his goodies table and took a blunt. Soon the end turned to a bright red and he exhaled the foul smoke.

˝Leave that shit here˝- Ubbe ordered and shut the door. His next stop was the room by the end of the second floor. The floor of hell he liked to call it, each room a separate universe of drugs and nonsense. He passed the undoubtedly rare and precious paintings on the walls and opened a door without knocking. There wasn't any particular need to be polite to these fuckers, family or not.

Sigurd's room was a maze of blues and greens, patterned curtains and bohemian style furniture. A dream catcher on the wall, a marijuana bong by the bed, some weird ass looking flowers on the window sill and those shits rugs he loved so much. He found his brother leaning against a speaker and grinning as the drum bounced to the rhythm of the bass it played. Drum'n bass he called it, junkie music, Ubbe filed it in his mind.

˝Wash your face and get downstairs, family meeting˝- He grunted.

˝Suuuuure, be riight there˝- Sigurd giggled. High on some shit again. Perfect. Not. Ubbe took a deep breath and readied himself for the last brother. Passing his room, a harmony of books, old oak and clean surfaces he stopped in front of a black door. He heard the sounds from the inside. The combination of orchestral music and machinery sounds, rising from a small note to an epic cresendo. The youngest brother enjoyed the most fascinating music. It wasn't as good as Ubbe's favorite Johnny Cash but it would do.

Without a knock he opened to the door and saw Ivar staring through the window, the back of his wheel chair shining under the low light. He preferred the dimmed, yellow lights that casted shadows in his room. An unimaginable pile of books littered the far corner and everywhere you went were more books, more gadgets and trinkets.

˝Get down, family meeting˝- Ubbe said. He waited for him to answer. Ivar was silent since he came that day from the florist shop. Days passed and he still had the plotting stare on. He pitied the girl already, not that he and the family would spare the Angelos...but you could at least have a decency towards the female. He heard she was rather pretty. It would be a shame to waste such beauty and not use it before it..expired.

˝I will, tell me brother, how long?˝- His voice carried the most noticeable northern accent. Everyone else tried the best to loose it but he was stubborn. Demanded the accent stayed, if for nothing else, pride and tradition. Ivar loved the fact they descended from the Vikings. The mighty warriors of the North. As a smaller child he devoured the stories, the myths and sagas. He was infatuated by the strenght and power they once possessed.

˝Not long, the invitation has been sent we just have to wait˝- Ubbe smirked. He wasn't big on patience but a good hunter knew when to wait for his pray, it would be sweeter later on anyways.

˝Let's go then, Father and Bjorn must be already waiting˝- In this dim light Ivar's eyes shinned inhumanely. Using his hands he wheeled at a fast and precise pace, leaving Ubbe to close the door. No one in the house spoke of his legs and they way they didn't work. No one dared to. Ivar had the last maid drowned and his old teacher had lost both of his arms and legs. Making a joke to the youngest Ragnarsson was a death wish. He wheeled down the floor to the elevator and slowly smiled himself. In the reflection of the polished metal he spotted his guns, a pair of modified Beretta 92FS. Stainless steel with a 5.9inch barrel and slide configuration. The extra inch in the length of the standard issue makes them look even more menacing. Ivar's ambidextrous nature showed itself as an excellent pairing with that pair. In his inner thigh he wore a concealed black dagger, curved and with a serrated edge. ˝Brother?˝- Craning his head he smiled at his older brother who snorted and walked towards him.

˝Always so damn bossy˝- Ubbe muttered.

˝I'm spoiled what can I say˝- Ivar said flashing pearly whites. Ubbe sighed and felt his weapons under his leather jacket. The Jackal sat snuggly by his left arm. The black gunmetal constructed weapon was the powerhouse of the Ragnarsson's weaponry. It used massive 13 mm rounds that would leave a crater in a person's body. The unique design makes it seem as if ti doesn't have a pistol slide, but the upper assembly is the slide and it moves at a minimal distance compared to other gus. Words were engraved into the metal under a specific angle so when pointed to a person's head it made them readable. It was Ubbe's baby and his sister was right next to it. The sister of Ubbe's baby was a semi-automatic magnum pistol, based on two pre WW1 handgun designs by Colt. The M1903 and m1905 pistols. The magazine has a capacity of six .456 cartridges. The long slide mimics her brother and finished with a titanium nitride making it a characteristic gold color.

With a ding they arrived at the first floor and the doors were opened by two servants dressed in black and white suits. The Ragnarssons nodded and made their way to the foyer. Their oldest brother, Bjorn, a massive blonde man was nursing what appeared to be vodka. In front of his icy blue eyes was a single weapon. It dominated the glass table. The „Awakening", a R-SCG12 double barrel shotgun duals as a hand of good. The semi-automatic is capable of piercing through the metal plating armored cars. He keeps changing the loads of either a very high gauge or a solid amour piercing slug, you know just to keep it dynamic.

He still had his under cut and the slicked back Mohawk along with the all black, military style clothes. The similarities didn't end there, known for his strict and routine behavior, Bjorn acted like a soldier more than a human. The mercenary of the family so to say.

˝Took you idiots long enough˝- He nodded towards them and leaned back in the sofa. His body seemed oversized even on the king sized sofa, the arms and legs to long to relax comfortably on it.

˝The other two will come shortly, Father is here?˝- Ubbe asked pouring himself a drink. Something told him he'd need several to be able to pass through the family meeting.

˝He'll come soon, had some business with the Haraldsons, the usual˝- Bjorn grinned. The Haraldsons were the co-brothers of the family, leading in weapon smuggling. They were a Macy's for weapons and guns. Last year the got fucking tanks for sale. Bjorn itched to get his hands on some.

˝Mhm˝- Bjorn commented. The gin he decided on burned nicely and warmed its way to his stomach relaxing him in a false manner.

˝Brother, I haven't seen you in a while˝- Ivar said when the silence settled. The youngest and oldest of the sons didn't see eye to eye and bickered often.

˝Yes that's why you're still so lively, imagine what could have been if you came with me˝

˝I imagine still sitting, yes?˝- Ivar smiled at the snide remark but his yes shone with malicious intent. His hands rested next to the dagger he loved so much a mere inch separating his flesh from the cold steel.

˝Wouldn't you prefer to lie down?˝

˝Not yet brother, not yet˝- A weird, insane laugh finished his sentence. However, it wasn't Ivar's. A tall figure came in fast, eyes crazy, mouth wide open.

˝My boys!˝- The man yelled in a thick northern accent. The Ragnarssons laughed.

˝Uncle Floki, you're here too?˝- Ivar was grinning like mad. The man nodded and ruffled his hair.

˝How could you something like this without your bang bang man? Your old man had to beggg me to come and you know me I can't say no to that old goat and see my boys. Bjorn! You're as big as a mountain!˝- His speech was fast and rumbled, like thunder in the summer time.

* * *

a/n: I took some days to plan this ahead at least a bit, I don't wanna disappoint now that I see how much you guys want to read this, it starts slowly but I'll be posting soon! And I'll add the epilogue for Fire inside in the next few days. I'm taking a harder and darker approach to this story so I'll be adding a few more tags and warnings. There is a playlist coming together as the story soundtrack I guess? If you want to listen I'll add a link to it.

a/n2: extra cookies if you can name the characters that use the mentioned guns and no cheating via Google


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